better take a cab to a hotel and get some sleep."
Then Jane remembered that she was without funds. It was their first pay
day in Cheyenne, but she was hundreds of miles from there.
"I guess I'll just wait here until the plane goes," she said.
The dispatcher was busy and failed to notice Jane's fatigue or he might
have guessed that she was in an embarrassing situation. Jane washed her
face and hands and walked outside to watch the sun go down behind the
Jersey hills.
She was hungry, but the tri-motor she had come in on had been trundled
away to a distant hangar and there was little chance that she could
find it and rummage through the pantry for anything to eat.
Jane skimmed through the magazines in the waiting room and selected one
on aviation. She had hardly settled herself when a young woman burst
into the room.
"Where's Jane Cameron?" demanded the newcomer.
"I'm Jane Cameron," replied the stewardess.
"What a break! I'm Ruthe Harrigan, special writer for the _New York
Globe_. Late as usual in getting my assignment. Afraid I had missed
you. How about your story? Sold it to anyone yet?"
"Why, no," stammered the surprised Jane. "I talked to a number of
reporters but they didn't say anything about paying me."
"They wouldn't," snorted the newcomer. "Let's hop outside and get a
bite to eat. Then we'll make a deal for your first-person story of the
battle with the bandits."
Ruthe Harrigan led Jane to a comfortable restaurant only a block from
the hangar and after sizzling steaks had been served, plied Jane with
questions.
"I'm after a first-person story of what happened on your trip in," she
explained. "We'll pay you well for permission to use your name above
the story."
"But what would Mrs. Van Verity Vanness and company officials say?"
"I'll call the Federated publicity office," said the energetic Ruthe.
Jane talked to the New York publicity head of Federated, and he
approved of the story. Another call to Mrs. Van Verity Vanness brought
her consent.
"Make them pay a good price," she advised Jane.
Dinner over, they hastened back to the Federated hangar where the
reporter borrowed a typewriter. "Now tell me everything that happened
and how you felt."
"But we haven't agreed on a price," said Jane.
"How about $50?"
"That doesn't seem enough. Won't this be front page news?"
"I should say it will. Every other New York paper will probably turn
green with envy."
"Then $50 isn't enough."
"I might be able to get $100," urged the reporter.
"Don't take less than $500," advised the night dispatcher. "If the
_Globe_ won't pay it, call some of the other papers. They will."
In desperation, Ruthe Harrigan called her editor and before Jane gave
her a line of copy, a check for $500 was in the hands of the
stewardess.
It was more money than Jane had ever had before and she fingered the
check carefully. Now she could go to a hotel, have the finest room,
enjoy the choicest food, and still have what to her was wealth.
For two hours Ruthe Harrigan plied her with questions while she beat a
heavy tattoo on the typewriter. When she was through she had nine pages
of copy to send to her office.
"It's a good story," smiled the reporter, "even if you did make us pay
through the nose for it."
Jane cashed her check at the field and had it converted into travelers'
checks of small denominations. Then she took a taxi to a recommended
hotel and by 11 o'clock was sound asleep, while across the river in New
York the presses of the _Globe_ were rolling out her own story of the
encounter with the aerial bandits.
Chapter Fifteen
"Hello Heroine"
Jane was up at seven the next morning and a few minutes later, went
down to breakfast. In the lobby she purchased copies of all of the
morning papers and went into the grill for breakfast.
An excellent picture of herself stared up from the front page of the
_Globe_ and underneath the picture was a two column headline informing
_Globe_ readers that they were about to read Jane Cameron's own story
of the battle with the bandits.
Jane flushed and looked up to make sure no one had recognized her. But
there were only a few at breakfast at that hour and she read the story
from opening paragraph to the final dash. Jane had to admit that Ruthe
Harrigan had done an excellent job of writing. The story was thrilling,
from start to finish.
After breakfast Jane bought half a dozen copies of the _Globe_, paid
her hotel bill, and took a taxi to the field. A pass was ready for her
and the 8:18 was on the line, warming up for the trip west.
A messenger approached Jane with a message and she signed for it.
Inside was a brief note from Mrs. Van Verity Vanness expressing her
appreciation and with it a check, "a little token of my gratitude,"
wrote Jane's passenger. The stewardess' eyes blinked as she looked at
the check. It was for one thousand dollars!
Jane's knees felt weak and she grasped a nearby handrail for support. A
thousand dollars! Why, it didn't seem possible. But it was possible,
for a thousand dollars was only pin money to the millions which Mrs.
Van Verity Vanness controlled.
Jane felt almost uncomfortably rich. There had been $500 for selling
the story and now the thousand dollar check. She had spent less than
$10 for her room, breakfast, taxi fare and the papers. Why she would
have at the very least $1,490 when she returned to Cheyenne. It seemed
unbelievable but she had the checks.
The day chief of operations at Newark came up.
"There's a sound crew from a news reel outside. They want you to pose
and say a few words. It's good publicity for the line."
Jane was glad that it was almost time for the plane to depart, for
facing a movie camera was a real ordeal. Her mouth went dry and chills
ran along her back as the sound man held the microphone close. Somehow
she managed to say a few words, and then she hurried back to the 8:18.
Two minutes later the big tri-motor was roaring west, and late that
night Jane would be back at Cheyenne.
There was a strong headwind and they seldom got above a hundred miles
an hour, with the result that they were more than an hour late when
they reached Chicago.
Jane changed planes there and had a lunch at the field. Then the
tri-motor sped westward again. There was a light passenger list, only
nine aboard the fourteen-passenger craft, and none of them recognized
Jane, for which she was grateful.
Night came as they roared over the rich farm lands of Iowa and from
Omaha west, Jane dozed, lulled by the rhythmic beating of the three
great engines.
The wind increased in force as they neared the Rockies, and the speed
was well under a hundred an hour. As a result, it was nearly three
o'clock when the lights of Cheyenne showed far ahead, under the left
wing. Jane roused herself and straightened her uniform. She wondered if
the girls would be at the field.
The big plane glided noiselessly out of the night into the glare of the
floodlights. When it rolled into the hangar Jane peered anxiously
toward the waiting room. Sure enough, Sue, Grace and Alice were there,
all of them fairly dancing in their anxiety to greet her.
The young stewardess was first out of the tri-motor, and she ran to
meet her friends.
"Hello heroine," said Sue, as she threw her arms around Jane in an
affectionate embrace.
"Welcome home," added Alice, while Grace added, "let's see what the New
York papers said about you."
Miss Comstock, who had been in the background, came up and greeted Jane
warmly.
"You've done a wonderful piece of work for the stewardess service," she
said. "Mrs. Van Verity Vanness sent the general manager a long telegram
today, highly recommending the service and especially complimenting
you. I'm sure that as a result of your outstanding work, we're all
assured of jobs for a long time to come."
"But I didn't do anything unusual," protested Jane. "I simply did my
job as I had been trained to do it, in the hospital and here at the
field. It was nothing more than what will soon be routine to every one
of us."
"Not every one of us will have bandits attack our plane the first time
we're out, nor will we be carrying a woman who can sign her name to a
check for a million dollars and know that she can cash it," put in
Grace.
Jane looked at her wrist watch. It was just three o'clock.
"We'd better hurry home if we plan to get any sleep tonight," she said.
"You can go home," said Grace, "but Alice and I are ordered out on the
eastbound mail. It's coming through in two sections from the coast this
morning, and will be here in another fifteen minutes."
"Then I'll stay and see you off," said Jane. "Fifteen minutes, more or
less, won't make much difference at this time of night."
Miss Comstock was busy in the commissary, checking supplies which were
to go aboard the eastbound planes and the girls all lent her a hand.
They plied Jane with questions about the trip, the encounter with the
bandits, and how she had gotten along with Mrs. Van Verity Vanness.
"She's an old dear," said Jane. "I don't care what the newspapers say
about her, she certainly treated me splendidly, and just as we got to
New York she invited me to accompany her as nurse and companion. She's
planning a round-the-world trip as soon as her son recovers."
"And you turned that down?"
"I should say I did. Why, I wouldn't trade this job of mine for almost
anything else in the world. You'll feel the same way before you're half
way through your first regular flight as stewardess. There's a thrill
to flying that can't be found in anything else."
"I'm willing to be shown," said Grace.
The planes from the west came in on time, both of them loaded to
capacity. New crews took over the controls at Cheyenne and Grace and
Alice stowed the food away in the pantries. They checked their
passenger lists and when the planes were refueled, called their
passengers aboard.
"Good luck," called Jane and Sue as they stood on the ramp and watched
the big ships wheel out of the hangar. Then the planes roared away into
a greying sky, which heralded the coming of another dawn.
A field car was available to take them to town and Miss Comstock joined
them.
"Are you going to come out and see every ship off?" asked Jane.
"I should say not, but with all of the girls assigned to go out within
the next 24 hours, I want to see that they get started right. After
that, they'll be on their own."
"What assignment do we get?" asked Sue.
"You will be on the _Night Flyer_ while Jane is to take the _Coast to
Coast Limited_. You'll go out tonight, while Jane's first trip is
tomorrow morning."
"Then I'll plan to do plenty of sleeping in the next few hours," said
Sue. "The _Night Flyer_ means a slow trip to Chicago for it stops at
every airport."
Mrs. Murphy heard them come in, and appeared with her hair done up in
curl papers and a faded kimono wrapped around her ample bulk. She
insisted on going down and fixing a lunch, and over the kitchen table
Jane spread out the New York papers. They read the stories, in great
detail, and Mrs. Murphy appeared immensely pleased at the great
publicity given to Jane's fine work.
"I could tell the minute I laid eyes on you, that you'd be a winner,"
she said proudly. "Now you'd best both be off to bed, for it's circles
you'll be having under your eyes if you don't."
They thanked Mrs. Murphy for the lunch and hurried upstairs to undress
and crawl between crisp, cool sheets just as the sun came over the
horizon.
Mrs. Murphy came in later and adjusted the curtains on the porch, and
the girls slept until mid-afternoon.
Sue, about to make her first flight alone, was nervous and excited. She
fussed over the way her uniform fitted her trim figure and worried
about what she would do if any of the passengers became ill.
"Just forget you're in a plane and think about ward duty back in Good
Samaritan, then you'll know what to do," advised Jane.
They had supper with Mrs. Murphy and then a car from the field called
for them. The _Night Flyer_ was due at ten o'clock, but Sue had at
least an hour's work in the commissary and she wanted to have plenty of
time.
Miss Comstock, looking rather worn and tired, was still on duty and
Mattie Clark was also at the field, looking very neat and business-like
in her uniform.
"There's two sections tonight on the _Flyer_," Mattie informed Sue.
"I'm going out on the first section and you'll take the second."
"Sue is assigned on the first section," said Miss Comstock, who
resented Mattie's infringement of her authority. "You take No. 2."
"But I want to be in Chicago early," protested Mattie.
"Both ships will be there within five minutes of each other. Besides,
Sue is to be on the _Flyer_ regularly, and she might just as well get
acquainted with the regular pilots who are on that run."
Mattie was silent, but it was obvious that she was anything but pleased
at Miss Comstock's decision, and Jane knew more than ever, that Mattie
was going to cause trouble for everyone else in the ranks of the
stewardess corps.
Chapter Sixteen
Through the Fog
The first section of the _Night Flier_ came in from the west three
minutes ahead of schedule and with a capacity load. While the
passengers stretched their legs and visited about the flight over the
mountains from Salt Lake, Sue stowed her kit away in the pantry.
With departure time at hand, she forgot the nervousness which had
gripped her earlier and became a calm, self-contained nurse.
"The best of luck," whispered Jane as she squeezed her friend's hand.
Sue herded her passengers into the cabin and closed the door. The
landing stage was wheeled away and the _Night Flyer_ lumbered out of
the hangar on the first lap of the long flight to Chicago.
Jane watched the lights of the plane until they were pin-points in the
east.
It was Sue's task to make her passengers comfortable for the night and
she went along the aisle, adjusting seats, turning off lights, and
bringing out the thick, warm blankets from the supply closet. In half
an hour she had the task completed and only one passenger, an elderly
man, had elected to read, selecting a Cheyenne paper with the latest
news.
As they sped east, Sue wondered at her own nervousness which had been
so evident before the flight. Now everything seemed so matter-of-fact.
She felt as though she had been flying for years.
A woman who had come through from 'Frisco was getting off at North
Platte and Sue roused her just before they swooped down on the field.
In ten minutes they were away again, with a radio order to stop at
Grand Island to pick up a passenger for Chicago and another coast
passenger would disembark at Lincoln.
The _Night Flyer_ made most of the local stops, and as a result was
anything but popular with the pilots. Most of the new men on the line
drew the thankless job of piloting the _Flyer_, and the crew of Sue's
ship had been on only a little more than a month.
With a fair tail wind, they kept on time despite all of their stops,
and they soared away from Omaha and over the muddy Missouri a few
minutes after two a.m. with a new crew of pilots up ahead. The
stewardesses made the entire trip from Cheyenne to Chicago, but the
pilots changed at Omaha, unless piloting a special.
It was over this stretch of the line that Jane had encountered the
thrilling experience which had brought her front page fame in every
newspaper in the country and Sue looked out, halfway in the hope that
something unusual enough to bring her fame, would happen.
But her hopes were doomed, and they went into Des Moines on time. The
only field they missed was at Iowa City, and they sped over that one
shortly after sunrise.
East of the Mississippi, they lost the sun in a murk of smoke and fog.
Sue's light flashed, and she went forward to answer the call from the
chief pilot.
"Weather around Chicago's bad," he said. "We may not be able to get
through, so stall the passengers off if they get anxious about the time
we're due in Chicago."
"But what will I tell them?" asked Sue.
"That's your job. All I do is run this crate."
Like Jane, Sue was finding out that pilots who on the ground were the
pleasantest and most friendly flyers, were more than likely to be
martinets when they were at the controls of a big passenger plane.
Sue took the rebuff good naturedly. Of course it was her job to keep
the passengers from being alarmed.
Franklin Grove was the last of the emergency landing fields she saw,
before the "soup" swallowed them and they looked out into a solid wall
of rushing grey, so thick it almost hid the wings.
Passengers looked anxiously toward Sue, and one or two of them summoned
her. To their questions, she replied as truthfully as she could that
they had struck a bit of bad weather, but that the radio beacon was
guiding the pilot and they expected to soon be out of the fog and into
clear weather.
That explanation satisfied them for the first half hour, but after that
Sue found herself in trouble and a rising fear gripping her own heart.
The questions the passengers asked were more difficult to answer.
Why weren't they out of the fog? They were late now getting into
Chicago. Did the pilot know where he was? Why couldn't they land and
wait for the bad weather to clear?
Sue answered them as best she could and tried to remain calm, putting
on the best professional manner of a trained nurse.
Her signal light glowed again and she went forward. The chief pilot
looked years older.
"We're in trouble," he told her frankly. "I've lost my radio bearings
and the gas is getting low. Have your passengers fasten their safety
belts and see that there is no smoking. If we crash we don't want any
extra risk of fire."
Sue returned to the cabin, hoping desperately that her face would not
give away the gravity of their situation when she asked the passengers
to put on their safety belts. She went from one to another, adjusting
the belts, and informing them that they were about to land, but she
didn't add that it was likely to be a crash landing. When everyone was
fastened to the seats, Sue reported to the chief pilot.
"Get back in the cabin. We're going down," he said curtly.
Sue watched the altimeter. The needle dropped gently from the 3,000
feet at which they had been flying, but the wall of fog still enveloped
the earth.
They nosed through it carefully, the air speed cut down to a hundred
miles an hour. Even that speed was a terrific one at which to crash
into the ground. Sue was too busy thinking about her passengers to
sense her own emotions.
For five minutes the pilot groped his way down and suddenly the nose of
the big ship shot through the fog. The plane flattened out 200 feet
above the ground and skimmed along over farmhouses with the motors
roaring heavily.
Suddenly the ship heeled over and for a sickening instant, Sue thought
they were crashing until she caught sight of an airport and knew the
pilot was sliding in for a fast landing.
As the plane touched the ground the motors sucked the last fuel from
the tanks. The tri-motor rolled up to the hangar and Sue looked at the
name painted above the large doors. They had come down at Joliet,
nearly thirty miles south of their course.
The pilot came back.
"Weather's still bad around Chicago," he announced. "We'll have taxis
here in a few minutes to take you in."
Sue helped her passengers collect their hand baggage and sheperded them
into the taxis. In half an hour the last one was safely away for
Chicago, and Sue had time to sit down and have a little cry all by
herself.
They remained at Joliet until mid-afternoon, when the fog cleared and
they hopped the short distance to the field at Chicago. It was then
that Sue learned that the second section of the _Night Flyer_ was down
at Sterling, Illinois, with the weather west of Chicago still foggy and
little chance of it clearing before mid-evening. Sue could imagine the
wrath of Mattie Clark, who had been anxious to reach Chicago that
morning.
Sue went to the office of the personnel director to be assigned
quarters while in Chicago and learned that the line had leased two
apartments nearby which would accommodate eight girls. They could cook
their own meals there or go out to restaurants as they preferred, since
the line's only obligation was to domicile them while at the Chicago
end of their runs.
"I talked with some of the passengers who came as far as Joliet with
you," said the personnel chief, "and they gave me some fine reports of
your calmness. I feel that I owe Miss Hardy at Good Samaritan a letter
of real appreciation for the girls she recommended."
After leaving the personnel office, Sue looked at the bulletin board.
The _Coast to Coast Limited_ with Jane aboard would be in at five
o'clock and she decided to wait for her.
Sue enjoyed a late lunch at the restaurant and then walked out on the
ramp to watch the arrival and departure of the planes.
A crimson monoplane was being loaded for a run to Kansas City, while a
trim, blue biplane was waiting for four passengers for Detroit. It all
seemed so matter-of-fact, and Sue knew that after her flight through
the fog that morning she would never again be afraid of flying.
Chapter Seventeen
An Ultimatum to Mattie
Sue met Jane when she stepped off the _Coast to Coast Limited_ and
together the girls went to the apartments which had been leased by the
air line. They were in Chicago for the night. Sue booked out early the
next morning and Jane later in the day.
Grace and Alice, also in Chicago, had been down town shopping that
afternoon, but they all met at the apartment. There was an attractive
kitchenette, but the girls were tired and they had dinner at a nearby
restaurant. Later they walked to a neighborhood movie where they
enjoyed the feature program.
When they returned to the apartment, Mattie Clark was there, still mad
at the long delay which had kept her away from Chicago.
"Imagine having to stay out at the emergency field at Sterling almost
all day," she stormed. She turned on Sue angrily.
"If you hadn't been so pig-headed back in Cheyenne, I'd have been on
the first section and at least arrived during the daytime."
"You can thank me you weren't on the first section," replied Sue
calmly. "We got lost and were coming down for a crash landing when the
fog cleared at Joliet and we sneaked down there. I was scared to
death."
Mattie looked at Sue skeptically.
"You don't seem to believe me," said Sue.
"Well, it's a good story," said Mattie.
Jane's anger had mounted steadily and it got away from her.
"That's enough, Mattie. We might as well have it out right now. I think
you're mean and small. You're doing everything you can to make it
unpleasant for Miss Comstock, and now you're insulting Sue, because you
know Sue is too even-tempered to fight back. Now just get out of here
and after this keep out of my way."
Mattie was furious and her face flamed with anger, but before she could
reply, Alice stepped in.
"What Jane said goes for Grace and me," she said. "The less we see of
you, the better."
"You'll all be sorry for this," flared Mattie as she slammed the door
and went into the apartment across the hall.
"I'm sorry this had to happen," Jane told the others, "but Mattie is
out for trouble and she's going to get it. From now on keep your eyes
open, for she'll trick you if she can."
The stewardesses soon settled into the routine of the flights from
Cheyenne to Chicago and return. It was interesting, pleasant work.
Jane banked the money she had received from the New York paper and from
Mrs. Van Verity Vanness and when Charlie Fischer asked her if she'd
like to take lessons in flying, she had the money necessary.
Charlie had a biplane at Cheyenne and between flights with the huge
Federated planes, amused himself by hopping around the countryside and
giving lessons to whatever pupils he could pick up. Of the
stewardesses, Jane was the only girl who decided to take lessons.
Whenever she and Charlie were at Cheyenne, he took her up for flights,
explaining the principles of aeronautics and letting her get the feel
of the plane. One afternoon they flew to Denver and back, and on
another occasion, went to Laramie.
Jane was blessed with air sense. When she had her hands on the control
stick, she could almost anticipate every movement of the plane and
Charlie praised her aptitude warmly.